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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147629">Local Dumbasses Knew What They Were Getting Themselves Into and Did It Anyways</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GEOFUL/pseuds/GEOFUL'>GEOFUL</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dreamon Hunters AU (DHAU) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, DHAU, Dreamon Hunters AU (DHAU) - Freeform, Gen, Other, best friends get brutally torn apart oops, forest fire type beat, mcyt - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:34:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GEOFUL/pseuds/GEOFUL</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The younger boy continued on, trying to feel his neck for the scarf that wasn’t there. In the congested state of his mind, he couldn’t remember taking off the scarf, but perhaps he had. Perhaps in his sleep.<br/>There was such an overwhelming amount of hesitancy that he thought it would be better to go back and check.<br/>Just to be sure.<br/>Just to be safe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dreamon Hunters AU (DHAU) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Local Dumbasses Knew What They Were Getting Themselves Into and Did It Anyways</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is a writing for an AU amongst my friends. i'll add more things to this series as time goes on :)!!</p>
<p>basically mega is a ghost in this AU and this is how he died pogchamp</p>
<p>btw dylan is mega and jacob is zelkam lol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Right,” Dylan agreed, a smile curling at the ends of his lips. “And then I said—”</p>
<p>“Wait, you really cursed him out?”</p>
<p>“Yeah!”</p>
<p>A sudden eruption of loud, obnoxious laughter echoed against the nearby trees. The noise was answered by the gentle call of a bird, one that hadn’t quite settled in for bed yet. Dylan squeezed his eyes shut as his chest heaved, and he felt the hand of his friend momentarily settle on his thigh. It lifted away as quickly as it had come, and they continued laughing until one of the boys neared choking.</p>
<p>Jacob coughed and sputtered out his next response, his treble voice interrupting Dylan’s story once again. “That’s so funny!” he exclaimed, reaching up to wipe at his misty, brown eyes. The pair had been chattering and teasing each other about their parents—or more specifically, Dylan’s father—for several minutes, and with so many interruptions, they’d never stray from the topic.</p>
<p>Dylan took a deep, trembling breath and steadied himself, trying to keep his composure. There wasn’t much to keep as a mere seventeen-year-old, but he could hope. The boy shifted on the acrylic blanket beneath his body, wrinkling the centre as he tried to get comfortable once again. He was on his back, facing the starry sky, though his eyes had yet to focus on the millions of visible stars they could find deep in the woods. There were too many to count; therefore, he couldn’t care less about watching them.</p>
<p>There was a small campfire to Dylan’s right, lighting his face with a merciful bronze. The boy could feel the heat of the flames lick the freckled skin on his cheeks, though it was a comforting warmth, one that he’d been welcoming since they’d arrived at their little hideout.</p>
<p>It wasn’t much—their hideout. A few toppled, deteriorating tree logs; one mildly torn, rubber tire; a variety of emptied and smashed alcohol bottles; things like that. It was the perfect getaway for two imperfect teenagers, and it was more of a home to them than their real homes were. And they were okay with that. There was something about spending a decade of your childhood with your best friend in a tiny forest clearing that spoke to Dylan’s heart.</p>
<p>Dylan continued the story, finally dragging his eyes across the midnight sky to find the moon, which seemed to be a large, oddly-shaped oval that night. How weird. He’d never been that interested in Astrology—it was just pretty. He didn’t even know the proper name for that moon cycle, but it was captivating enough to hold his gaze for the remainder of the anecdote. “So I said, ‘Fine, I’ll never come back,’ and I came here.”</p>
<p>Jacob turned his head to see Dylan’s serious expression, and his smile was pulled down a little by the weight of realization.</p>
<p>“So you’re really not going back?” the boy asked him. Brown eyes met similar ones and the pair stared at each other, both awed that the conversation had suddenly gotten so stiff. Dylan pursed his lips, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest, and then shook his head in agreement.</p>
<p>Jacob knew he was serious. There was always a particular gleam in his friend’s eyes whenever they had more weighty conversations like this one, and it was easy to tell apart. Jacob’s tone drooped just a bit, and his reply was almost quieter than the cicadas that surrounded their campsite. “Alright then.”</p>
<p>“I’d rather stay here forever. It’s more peaceful with you around, anyway.” Dylan turned his head once again, shutting his eyes. There was a burning sensation that nearly made him tear up, though it was only because of his fatigue. It was a little late in the night, and he didn’t want to sleep just yet, but his body would begin to disobey his wishes soon if he didn’t succumb.</p>
<p>“I believe you.”</p>
<p>“You’re the best.”</p>
<p>“Well—”</p>
<p>Dylan’s eyes opened and he playfully lifted himself up, turning toward Jacob. His expression smudged into one of childish surprise and the boys stared at each other for what felt like hours. Then, Dylan threw himself onto his best friend and laid there, letting out breathless laughter and trying to fight with him. He didn’t like that they argued over those kinds of compliments, but it gave him a chance to lighten the mood, and he always took it.</p>
<p>“Get off, I was about to fall asleep!” Jacob cried, strangled noises escaping his throat. They were lighthearted, however, and his arms struggled to push Dylan away in their scuffle. With eventual success, Jacob turned his body the other way, settling on his own blanket, further from the fire. “Your stories make me sleepy. And it’s late… we should go to bed anyway.”</p>
<p>“You’re no fun,” Dylan huffed, pulling himself off of the other and fingering the upper hem of his shirt in an attempt to get it further away from his neck. He gently snickered, then moved to lay down as well, in the warmth he’d left a few moments ago. Dylan seemed almost defeated, throwing himself back into his previous horizontal position in a coltish manner. There was still a burn in his eyes, and there was still a stifled yearning for sleep’s pleasantries. He’d be out in a matter of minutes if he wasn’t careful.</p>
<p>Still, though, it solaced him to be so close to the fire and to feel the heat on his face. It felt like two fragile, almost maternal hands cupping his cheeks and barely letting go. It would be nice to sleep in the deep of the sensation, Dylan slightly scooting his body closer to the burning wood. The comforting embrace of warmth brought him closer to slumber than he thought he’d ever be that night, though before leading himself on, he spoke out loud, listening for his friend’s familiar voice.</p>
<p>“Goodnight,” Dylan said.</p>
<p>The expression was answered with an equally drowsy voice. “Goodnight, Dylan.”</p>
<p>Nothing else was said, and in cordial air between two best friends, the pair fell asleep, safe in each other’s company.</p>
<p>Nothing was said about the unintentionally disregarded campfire, either.</p>
<p>Not the smouldering sticks beneath it, nor the toxic smoke that rose through the air in thin layers, nor the pieces of gathered firewood that they’d laid out beside the anarchist flames.</p>
<p>Nothing was said about how these flames had slowly begun to taste the bare edges of the fresh firewood to the side, and how the wood did not hesitate to burn.</p>
<p>To firewood, to grass, to underbrush…</p>
<p>And suddenly the boys’ entire home was ablaze. The only thing that startled them out of their deep, shared slumber was the unbearable heat that they suddenly felt, causing beads of sweat to form beneath both of their sets of clothes. James was the first to awaken, groggily opening his eyes only to be met with a few trivial leaves with burnt-out edges. He could smell something strong—the scent of soot, and of a comforting fireplace. However, this fire was not as comforting.</p>
<p>Jacob lifted his body into a sitting position and glanced around, awareness smacking him in the face like a heavy Composition textbook. The boy’s eyes blinked, then squinted at the bright inferno in front of them. His face twisted and grew a look of confusion and shock, adrenaline soaring through his bloodstream in a second.</p>
<p>He almost didn’t know what to do.</p>
<p>“Dylan—” Jacob breathed, soon realizing that even the oxygen in the air was little. He gasped, trying to catch it, and turned to his friend, who was barely awake. A pair of hands were thrown out and Jacob hastily shook his friend’s torso and shoulder, forcing consciousness into him.</p>
<p>The second Dylan caught up to his surroundings, he had the same reaction, his breath easily catching in his throat. There was a moment of choking, and a moment of pure fear, and then the boy shakily stood atop his blanket, which hadn’t burned quite yet. They were lucky that the fire hadn’t reached them, but it was spreading devastatingly quickly.</p>
<p>The scent of fire and hotness had the boys moving straight away. There wasn’t a second to spare to collect their belongings, however badly Dylan wished they could. The flames were hot enough to scorch their skin, albeit their short distance.</p>
<p>“Dylan!” Jacob wailed, eyes wide with terror. The boy lurched toward his friend and pulled Dylan’s arm, just as tiny flames ate at the grass below their feet. The pair stumbled away from the fire, gasping for limited oxygen.</p>
<p>Dylan coughed, his chest making an awful noise, and he turned toward Jacob to see his face, confusion plaguing every crevice of his own. He didn’t know why there was a fire—why was there a fire?! The boy squeezed his eyes shut, feeling lethargy sting. He just wanted to go back to bed. He just wanted to sleep it off.</p>
<p>No, he couldn’t. There was a fire. They would die if they stayed.</p>
<p>Oh, God. It was his fault. They hadn’t put out the fire in the first place.</p>
<p>“There’s fire,” Dylan breathed, his voice finally showing alarm. His eyes passed over the glowing flames that crackled and sizzled around them, taking in the scenery as panicked shock flooded out of him. The boy grabbed onto Jacob’s arm once, then twice, the choking air causing his grip to falter slightly.</p>
<p>“We have to leave,” Jacob insisted, bringing his face closer to Dylan’s. Whether it was the adrenaline and shock that kept them still, or the fact that they hadn’t been given adequate time to wake up, he didn’t know. He did know that they needed to get out, immediately.</p>
<p>“Come on!”</p>
<p>“Okay—”</p>
<p>Dylan nearly tripped over himself as Jacob spun and began to pull him on. The boys stuck together like glue for a few moments before having to break their desperate grasps to climb over fallen tree branches and clusters of leaves that had been there prior to the disaster. Their hands fought for a secure grip once they’d made it past, Dylan’s palms sweating from deadly apprehension. </p>
<p>The light from the flames illuminated their path in a much more frightening manner than Dylan expected. Bits of ash flew and trapped themselves in his eyes and that, along with the heat of the blaze, caused his eyes to water with little control. Despite the numbing pain and discomfort, the boy continued on the path made by his friend, briefly straining himself to turn and look back at the flames that were devouring their safe space.</p>
<p>It would be gone in no time, surely. Their blankets, their ridiculous excuses for seating. The memories of stealing alcohol and meeting up to get drunk with each other, the memories of their storytelling and the laughter and the tears. It was all being consumed by burning fire, and it made Dylan sick to his stomach.</p>
<p>His mind was flooded with misery until he felt a force jerk at his hand, causing his head to spin forward once more. The sight of his friend came into view, Jacob having tripped over a new tree branch that they hadn’t noticed. Dylan took a craving, deep breath, tasting the bitterness of smoke that he wasn’t supposed to ingest. Then, he knelt down and attempted to pull Jacob up onto his feet, tugging on the branch that had been tripped on.</p>
<p>The force of his pulling caused his hand to near his face after the branch was moved, and that was when Dylan realized something.</p>
<p>There was a particular emptiness that usually wasn’t there. Something was missing, something that he would have felt otherwise. He never took it off.</p>
<p>His scarf. His mother’s scarf.</p>
<p>“My—” he hesitated, blinking his eyes harshly before watching his friend stand. “Hey, my scarf is still in the…”</p>
<p>“Who cares! It’s burning!”</p>
<p>The deafening wind and crackling fire caused Jacob’s voice to sound muffled, but Dylan knew what he’d said. And he didn’t care. Nothing else in the world meant more to him than that scarf did. It was the last gift he’d received from his mother before she passed away, and he’d rather die than lose it. It was his last memory of her.</p>
<p>“I’m getting it!” Dylan shouted, forcing his weak knees to support him as he stood. There was a distasteful look on the other boy’s face, though the terror was still there, too. Dylan turned and, just as he started to run, his shirt was snatched and he nearly toppled over once more.</p>
<p>He’d had enough of this already. If he didn’t go back, he would lose his mother again.</p>
<p>“Stop! What are you doing?” Jacob screamed, his voice hoarse from his ragged breathing. Dylan’s only reaction was to violently shove the other’s hand off of him, and gesture toward the end of the forest. They both knew that the end was near—but Dylan couldn’t go there yet.</p>
<p>“I have to go back! Just leave!” Dylan took a careful step forward, over the leafy branch they’d found themselves arguing atop. His voice was grating against the flames, and after speaking, he jolted back and began to run in the opposite direction. “Don’t wait for me.”</p>
<p>Jacob didn’t know what to do. His body was shocked still, eyes trained on the fading outline of his best friend in the smoke, and suddenly Dylan was gone.</p>
<p>The younger boy continued on, trying to feel his neck for the scarf that wasn’t there. In the congested state of his mind, he couldn’t remember taking off the scarf, but perhaps he had. Perhaps in his sleep. There was such an overwhelming amount of hesitancy that he thought it would be better to go back and check. Just to be sure. Just to be safe.</p>
<p>His shoes made muted, crunchy noises against the dry leaves and sticks below while he ran, and Dylan felt the heat of the flames on his face once more as he neared them. He didn’t want to be here, but the weight of losing the scarf felt devastating enough to sacrifice himself.</p>
<p>The clearing came up on him quicker than he’d expected. Dylan’s eyes were blurry, but he forced himself to study the area, searching for a hint of light green, or a hint of anything at all. Their blankets had caught fire and so had their precious home.</p>
<p>And then, as if a feigned miracle from God had been thrusted down on his irreligious soul, Dylan saw his scarf in the burnt grass, the fabric gently scorching.</p>
<p>A labored scream was let from Dylan’s throat after he saw the scarf, and his body flew forward instinctively, the boy nearly forgetting his charring surroundings entirely. He came toward the scarf and reached for it in the grass, avoiding the blankets by cautiously kicking them away from himself.</p>
<p>The boy shook the scarf out in the air, tears billowing from his eyes. The weak flames that had burned the fabric blew out in his desperate attempt and he hugged the scarf close to his chest, trembling against it.</p>
<p>And as he stood there crying, a large tree branch came tumbling down from above, landing just behind his cowering frame, and Dylan had no time to react. Flames engulfed the area around the branch, including the boy’s poor clothes, and soon his skin was ignited, raging pain throbbing through every receptor in his body.</p>
<p>The scent of scalding wood and heat came flowing toward Dylan’s nose and his balance faltered at the immense discomfort he suddenly felt. Fire pricked at every bare patch of flesh on his left side and from Dylan came another terrorized scream, one so full of pain that he had to breathe in again. This breath, however, was less oxygen and more harmful smoke, the fervor burning his throat and lungs.</p>
<p>An effort was made to get away from the fire, but it was only an effort, and soon Dylan was on the ground again, his joints weak and his brain foggy. The idea of suffocation was much more pleasing than that of burning alive, and it seemed the world was doing just that now, ashes drifting upon his cheeks like snowflakes.</p>
<p>Maybe the fire wasn’t so bad. Or maybe it was his body trying to numb him from it. Either way, the warmth felt a little nicer by the second, and as Dylan laid in the burning grass, he slowly began to lose the will to move. There was no use—he was completely surrounded now.</p>
<p>Not even the picture of Jacob’s worried expression before he’d run off could bring him to lift his body up.</p>
<p>The light from the flames hurt his eyes a bit, and his eyelids were closed with hardly any work at all. What was the point of keeping them open? Even if he were to open his eyes, the only thing he’d see was the rusty mosaic above, burning him alive.</p>
<p>It felt like he was laying down again, ready for slumber after just trying to wrestle with his best friend under the light of the stars. It was only a little hotter…</p>
<p>He missed Jacob.</p>
<p>Maybe he shouldn’t have gone back.</p>
<p>This hurt so much more than he could comprehend.</p>
<p>And the fire around him would take what was sacred to the boys, casting it like confetti into the night sky, first glimmering red before cooling to black before Dylan’s eyes. By the morning, only one of them would stand on the ashes and beg for the memories which lived in their trees, their tire, their trashed bottles…</p>
<p>Only one would beg that they found a safe place.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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